The Anatomy of a Home
by icantfindmyshow
Summary: Maura Isles was never adopted. She bounced from foster family to foster family, unable to find a good fit. Without a home, a family, or a friend... she is lost.
1. Chapter 1

It was weird being in a city like that. I'd come to notice that you can tell the personality of a culture by looking at the buildings in which they live.

In Florida, where I lived with the Petersons, the buildings were flat. Houses were only one story and usually had a Spanish type of architecture. The colors didn't have boundaries, though. Most of them were a shade of terra cotta, sometimes leaning towards tangerine. It's tasteless to any outsider. But to its residents, it's home.

The people were very much the same. Their sun kissed skin tones matched the orange of their houses. As did their personalities. Each and every person there was vibrant and outgoing. But underneath all of that, they were as flat as their homes.

Florida is the vocal cords of the lower states. Buildings and people, loud in all they do. And while they seem important, it's easy to get on without them. I would've rathered a grey, lifeless world. And that's exactly what I go next.

From Florida and the loud Petersons, I was sent to Connecticut with the powerfully silent Hastings.

The homes there... They were very different from Florida. They were all brown or white, always with black shutters. At least, that's how it was in Greenwich.

I went to school on the edge of the stuck up town, at a public high school. At this school, everyone looked at me like I was an alien. I dressed the way my foster family did, in cardigans and pleated skirts. My stockings were always crisp and fresh. But, it didn't matter to these kids. I dressed the way a 'preppy' did. And they constantly teased me for being smart. I guess in public school, smart means boring.

I kept to myself after that. I usually carried a book around with me and read in the library when I was supposed to be in lunch. They ignored me after awhile, but I wasn't getting much from my education. With nothing but school to concentrate on, the small amount of knowledge I was gaining wasn't enough.

So, I got a job and paid my way into a private school. Not much changed, though. I had a uniform and more science classes, but that was about it. The girls still looked at me with daggers in their eyes. They whispered behind their manicured hands. Needless to say, I didn't make any friends there either.

They were the eyes, those people. They saw everything. They saw your insecurities and they preyed on them. There was nothing you could hide. And there was nothing they wouldn't take advantage of.

The bottom line was that I wasn't social enough for them. And I was weird. So they kicked me out. And that's how I ended up here, in Boston.


	2. Chapter 2

The social services offices were in the same building as the Boston Police Department, connected by a small cafe. Detectives and officers wandered in and our in pairs, speaking of sports games as they sipped their coffee.

The social worker had to take a call and told me to order anything from the menu and the worker would add it to his tab. All I could think of was the 'tabs' the girls at my private school in Connecticut talked about. They ordered non-alcoholic pina coladas at their yacht clubs in the summer, alcoholic when it was a friend working at the food shack. And Columbian coffee in the winter.

I only nodded with my gaze pointed at his shoes. He grunted and slumped back to his office with a small limp. I looked up at the chalkboard menu and bit my lip in concentration.

"What can I get you, honey?" a kind voice said from behind the counter. I glanced to her and away just as quickly. "How about some bunny pancakes? You look like you could use a smile," she said. "Just have a seat anywhere and I'll bring them over." She disappeared behind a swinging door.

I sat down at a rounded table near the door. I could see everything from that seat. I saw a man with a mustache buy an omelette and coffee for another man in a suit.

"Thanks, Korsak. But don't think buyin' me breakfast is gonna get you up to detective," the suited man said, pouring cream into his coffee.

The younger officer, Korsak, laughed. "Can't blame me for tryin', Captain!"

The captain swatted at Korsak's arm and called out, "Thanks, Angela!" I saw Korsak look back at the swinging door and sigh before he left his superior alone to eat.

The woman who promised my pancakes came out of the swinging door with a mug and plate. She smiled at the captain and moved around towards my table.

"You look like a strawberry girl. I had some special British strawberries I threw in," she set out the dishes and smiled warmly. "There's some tea too. Mint, nice and friendly. Let me know if you need anything else." I watched her walk away, grateful for her kindness.

The pancakes looked like what everyone described as the Easter Bunny... but with more fruit. The bunny on my plate was clearly female. Strawberry slices made up soft, slanted eyes and were accentuated by licorice strand eyelashes. The woman, Angela, had sliced a banana through the middle to keep its curved shape for the mouth. Dots of confectionary sugar made up freckles on the cheeks, with a cherry placed carefully between them. And blueberries hovered above the eyes in rows for eyebrows. And as a last touch, strawberry whipped cream in the indent of the ears. It was a masterpiece. I was afraid to touch it, let alone eat it.

I looked up at Angela to see her wink at me. Laughing lightly, I felt more relaxed than I had in ages.

"This is magnificent, miss," I voiced my thoughts quietly.

"Tell that to my kids! They always complain that they're too old," she laughed. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen, miss."

"Angela, please. My daughter is that age."

I smiled and nodded, feeling a bit awkward as I remembered my past with girls my age.

"What's your name, sweetie?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Maura," I nodded and wiped my hands on a napkin.

"What brings you here, Maura?"

"They're trying to find me a new foster family..." I looked around the room, afraid to look at her again.

"Excuse me, Maura. I need to make a phone call," Angela smiled. "Eat up. She won't bite."

I nodded again and took a scoop of the whipped cream as she picked up the phone.

"Frank. Remember when Tommy found that kitten with the limp? And you bugged me to help him nurse it back to health?" she paused and I could hear the murmur of a voice at the other end. "Yes, I know it died. That's not the point!" I smiled to myself briefly before closing my ears to the conversation out of respect for her. Instead of eavesdropping as I'd done so much in the past, trying to get a clue into the way I was supposed to act, I dug into my pancakes. And trust me, they were even more delicious than they looked.

I looked up again at Angela arguing on the phone and knew it must be a wonderful family that kept her from pursuing this talent with food.


	3. Chapter 3

A little while later, I was sipping the last of my tea when the social worker came to gather me.

"Thanks, Mrs. Rizzoli. You're an angel!" he sat down across from me. "Well, Maura, we've found you a new foster family. They live right here in Boston, just a few streets away. I've organized your class schedule for the local high school you'll be attending. They do have a requirement for P.E. that you'll have to fulfill," he flipped through a file and was about to continue when a man and three teenagers walked in. The room was suddenly filled with noise and movement.

The kids were shouting and the two boys were poking at the eldest, a girl. They all had the same shade of dark brown hair, curling off their scalps in all directions. The girl's hair hung down past her shoulders, making her lanky frame seem to have more substance. The boys were identical from the back, besides their height. But as they turned, I could see that the smaller one had shining blue eyes that clashed with the brown of his siblings'.

"Oh, here they are," my social worker said. "Maura, this is your new foster family. The Rizzoli's."

I looked at them as Angela pulled the stubborn, thin girl into a hug. It couldn't be. Angela caught my eye and winked. She whispered something to the kids as they crowded around her. And in unison, they turned towards me and smiled.

The youngest had a sort of smirk, like he was planning something. I tried to ignore it, thinking that the thirteen-year-old couldn't be as devious as he seemed. The middle boy's smile was wide and bright. He seemed like a nice, genuine kid. I began hoping I'd maybe make a friend after all. But that thought died when I looked toward the girl. I didn't think her smile could even be classified as a smile. It was more of a snarl. I could almost hear the growl she'd been making had she been an animal. She was fierce, that's for sure. Angela nudged her in the side and the girl winced before forcing her face into more of a smile.

Here we go again, another girl I won't be friends with. Another girl who will resent my existence. I only wished I could find a family that wanted me around. That even if they didn't understand my silence, accepted me.

"Welcome to the family, Maura. This is Jane, Frankie, Tommy, and my husband Frank," Angela smiled as she gestured to each of them in a row. I smiled shyly and waved my hand. Where a minute ago, I'd been hopeful, I was now scared. I almost wanted to go back to Greenwich. Almost, but not quite. Nothing could've been as bad as that monstrous place.

* * *

><p>"Here we are, Maura," Angela put my bags down at the foot of a full sized bed. We were up in the attic, or 'loft' as they called it to seem less... depressing. It wasn't full of spider webs, or anything. A little stuffy but nothing to hard to handle. "We have a storage room downstairs on the kids' floor that we're going to clear out for you. It'll just take a little time. I hope this is alright in the meantime..."<p>

"This is fine, Mrs. Rizzoli. Really, thank you. You didn't have to do any of this."

She shook her head and shushed me. "I don't want to hear any of that. You're here now, and we're not gonna let you leave."

I smiled and looked down, knowing that sooner or later they'd kick me out just like the rest.

"I'll let you get settled. Dinner will be in about two hours. We're having homemade pizza tonight. So, if you'd like to join the kids and make your own, be down in an hour or so," she smiled and left to start preparing dinner.

I looked around my room silently. I'd been in many rooms. They all weren't much bigger than a walk-in closet. And if they were, I was sharing with a few other kids.

I opened my bag and unloaded everything into the drawers. Not seeing a laundry hamper anywhere, I left the bottom drawer for laundry. When I was finished, I took out my toothbrush. It was frayed and old. I brought it downstairs to the bathroom, along with my bottles of Herbal Essences Totally Twisted shampoo and conditioner. I lined my purple bottles up with the plain Head & Shoulders bottles.

When I was satisfied with the arrangement, I walked back up the stairs slowly so I didn't make a sound. The only things left in my bag were a bottle of Clinique: Happy perfume and a book called _Blood and Bone: Poems by Physicians_. Setting the perfume on the dresser, I sat in my desk chair and opened up to the page of the last poem I'd read, _Pathology of Colour_ by Dannie Abse and disappeared into the weaving of words and medicine.

I know the colour rose, and it is lovely,  
>But not when it ripens in a tumour;<br>And healing greens, leaves and grass, so springlike,  
>In limbs that fester are not springlike.<p>

I have seen red-blue tinged with hirsute mauve  
>In the plum-skin face of a suicide.<br>I have seen white, china white almost, stare  
>from behind the smashed windscreen of a car.<p>

And the criminal, multi-coloured flash  
>of an H-bomb is no more beautiful<br>than an autopsy when the belly's opened-  
>to show cathedral windows never opened.<p>

So in the simple blessing of a rainbow,  
>in the beveled edge of a sunlit mirror,<br>I have seen, visible, Death's artifact  
>like a soldier's ribbon on a tunic tacked.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: This is still just exposition, conflict will pick up in a few chapters. I'll be bringing in many other characters from the show. I.E. Giovanni, Grant, Doyle, etc. Thanks for reading! Enjoy! - quills<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

About forty-five minutes after Angela had brought me to my room, I moved down the stairs to the kitchen slowly. Two thirds of the younger generation of Rizzoli's were sitting on stools at the breakfast bar, the boys with their rumps almost floating above their seats in excitement. Jane, though, was nowhere to be seen.

"What are ya doin'?" I heard yelling from the other room. "Take the shot!"

"Idiot! Pop, why don't they take him out? He's awful!" That was Jane's voice. I peeked my head into the room with the shouting and saw the television on to a basketball game. Men were wiping their sweaty shaved heads on their nylon jerseys. I watched and saw the same things everyone else saw. But I didn't see what drew people to the spot. You have to run around in a clammy gymnasium and get a ball in a hoop. It wasn't even like football, where you could be physical like everyone always seemed to want. No, if you touched someone else, you got in trouble. It made no sense. One second, they want violence. Another, they disapprove.

I turned back to the kitchen and saw five cutting boards out, all covered in flour. Angela was cutting the large chunk of dough into six parts and placed the parts on a different cutting board, except for the last which had two.

"Mom," Frankie, the middle child, whined. Tommy reached forward and plucked a tiny piece of dough off the pile. He stuck it in his mouth and smiled at the slimey substance.

"That can cause illness," I said before I knew I was speaking. Tey all stopped to look at me. "It's not sanitary to eat raw rough."

"You heard the girl, Tommy! If you sneak another piece, I'm gonna make your pizza for you!" Angela waved her knife around as if it was a fly swatter, not something that could slice through flesh like it was nothing.

"Are you sure you're only Janie's age," Frankie asked, looking at me. I tilted me head. "You're really smart..."

"I'm sure you're sister is very smart as well. I've just always focused on my studies."

"Did you just call me stupid, Frankie?" Jane came in from the other room and glared at her brother. The boy smirked and shrugged. "I ain't stupid. Doc Asshole's just got it out for me."

"Language," Angela and I said at the same time.

"Oh, joy. Another mother..." Jane rolled her eyes and went to the sink to wash her hands. "'Cause one wasn't already enough."

"Janie, be nice to her. She's our family now," Angela scolded as she placed the last chunk of dough on the cutting boards.

"She ain't family! She's just some charity case with a big brain!"

"Jane!" A strong voice with a Boston accent yelled above the shouts of Angela. "Don't you dare."

"What, pop?"

"Janie, Maura needs a home. You will be nice to her while she's here. Make a pb&j and go up to bed. I'll be up to talk about this in a few minutes," Angela said, turning her back and washing up at the sink.

Jane groaned and threw her hands in the air as she left the room. I felt my cheeks redden at what just occurred.

"I'm sorry for Jane, Maura. She's not usually like this," Angela said with her hands on her hips.

"Are you kidding? She's always like that to us!" Tommy gestured between him and Frankie.

"You boys bring it on yourselves with all you do to her," Frank said.

"I didn't mean to cause any trouble..." I whispered.

"It's not your fault, dear. I think she's jealous of not being the only girl anymore. She'll get over it."

I shake my head. "You didn't have to take me in. I-I can find another family. I don't want to put her or anyone else out."

"Maura, please. Let me handle Jane. You just get settled in," Angela said with a reassuring smile. Her hand reached out and touched my cheek gently, almost as if she was hesitating to judge my reaction. When I sighed, she let it rest there for a moment.

I felt like I was being pulled in two directions by the rack, an ancient torture device. Jane's anger towards me was pulling my ankles, making me want to run out of here. But Angela's care and... almost love gripped my wrists and made me want to stay. I was being pulled apart by these two people I had to live with.

"It'll be alright. Mind putting them in the oven for me when you're finished?" she smiled and turned towards the stairs. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Dinner was... interesting. Frank Sr. was trying to watch the basketball game discreetly by glancing at the TV reflection in the microwave. Angela scoffed and rolled her eyes when she caught him, but chose to ignore it. I guess it wasn't a battle worth fighting. Jane, on the other, I guess was. She was still up in her room and we could hear the banging of music through the floorboards. Tommy and Frankie were so absorbed in their pizza, they could only nod or shake their heads in response to questions about their days at school. I just sat in silence. I didn't know how to act. Everyone was so relaxed, but I was watching.

* * *

><p>As soon as dinner was over, I rushed back up to my room and dove under the covers in the bed, wrapping them tightly around me. I'd been getting these anxiety attacks since I went into foster care. The only thing that helped was being swaddled like a baby in blankets, or having some kind of firm and steady pressure. Other people hug for this reason, I noticed. But, I never really had anyone to hug except for my blankets.<p>

I closed my eyes and always tried to imagine my mother's voice, whispering loving words in my ear. But it only ever made the feeling worse. As I grew older, I started whisper the comforting words to myself from a poem I had memorized. I opened my mouth and felt the familiar strain of the anxiety on my throat, preventing me from speaking. I struggled for a few minutes, combing through the fear to find my voice. And just as I had grasped it, my door creaked open.

I tore the blankets off my head and looked to the door. Tommy was easing it closed behind him. He looked towards me, his eyes shining through his long eyelashes. I sat up and hugged my legs close, afraid of what this thirteen-year-old was going to do.

"Tommy... what? What are you doing up here?" I asked as I tried to hide my trembles.

He only smirked and sat down on the bed facing me.

I swallowed and tried to muster confidence into my voice. "I was trying to go to sleep. Why are you here?"

"Your pizza was perfect. I don't know how you did that," he said. I stared back. "You should be a chef, or something. I'd definitely watch you on The Food Network."

"Uh, thank you?"

"I bet a lot of people would. Or, you could be in a movie! Like one of those romantic ones. The Notebook, or something," he grinned.

"The Notebook? I've never heard of that film."

"Girls love it. I haven't seen it," he shrugged. "But, you got the looks to be in a movie. You ever kiss a guy before? Girls always have to do that in movies."

I swallowed and looked down. Most young women my age had gone much farther than just kissing. I never understood why they would, especially this early in life. They're far too young to be suitible mothers. But, I had always wondered about kissing a boy. No boy ever wondered about ksising me, though. I shook my head.

"Well, I can change that. Let me help you become a world famous actress, Mara."

"My name is Maura."

"Ah, it even sounds like an actress's name," he gave me a lop-sided grin and leaned forward.

I froze. I didn't want to kiss him. But I couldn't move or object. Just as his lips were brushing mine, my door swung open again.

"Really? First you steal my family, now you're trying to fuck my brother? Who the hell are you?" Jane said. I could hear hear the fire in her voice. She plucked Tommy off me, thankfully, and dragged him out of the room. "Stay away from my brothers. Or, I'll make sure my mother kicks you out." The door slammed shut behind her. A moment later, I heard two other doors slam shut.

A choked sob managed its way up my throat and I slide back under the blankets. My breath was coming and going uncontrollably fast, hyperventilation. I'd never had an anxiety attack so severe. I yanked the blankets untucked from the matress and rolled myself up in them. With my nose sticking out into the cool air, my breathing continued coming and going raggedly.

I twisted around until I was curled up on my side and rocked myself back and forth. My voice came to me easier this time as I started to recite the poem.

**NOON THURSDAY**

_I dropped in_

_on my mother_

_dazzling in her yellow sweater_

_having lunch._

_I sat down_

_at her table._

_I'd seen her_

_two days ago_

_but this time_

_I startled her_

_I think-too early_

_in the week_

_for another visit._

_You just appeared_

_out of nowhere!_

_she said_

_then asked me, smiling:_

_What have you been doing_

_all these years?_

_I didn't know what to say._

_It's the very_

_same question_

_I've been asking myself._

_-John Stone_


	5. Chapter 5

I woke up at five the next morning. The sole window in my room faced east and the blinds did little to block the first signs of daylight. I didn't mind all too much, though. I was always liked having extra time in the morning to ready myself for the day. I swung my lefts over the edge of the bed and wiped my face. My eyes felt puffy from spending the night crying and I could feel the dark circles under my eyes. I hoped it wouldn't take too much makeup to conceal.

It usually took me forty-five minutes to get ready, but I was trying to delay seeing the family downstairs for as long as possible. So, I took my time and took an extra half hour to prepare myself. Angela had said the bus arrives at 7 o'clock, so I left myself plenty of time still to meditate in front of the window.

In the past, the people of my foster families teased me for meditating every morning. They called me a "hippie" and "flower child". From then on, I kept my routine in the privacy of my room.

It wasn't until 6:45 that I made my way downstairs. Jane was sitting at the breakfast bar, her chin hanging over a bowl of cereal. She glanced to me and her gaze hardened. I tried to ignore her and looked to Angela, who was closing up four brown bags.

"Here's your lunch, Maura. I hope peanut butter and jelly is okay. We can talk later about what cold cuts you like," she smiled and held it out for me. "How did you sleep?"

"Well, thank you," I nodded and took the bag.

"Yeah, I bet," Jane said, rolling her eyes.

"Jane," Angela warned.

Jane rolled her eyes again and downed the last of the milk in her bowl. Before Angela could ask what Jane was talking about, Frankie came running into the kitchen with his backpack and told us to hurry out to the bus. I slid the lunch bag into my bag and followed Jane and Frankie out to the bus.

Frankie ran up first and sat down next to an African American boy. And Jane weaved her way between backpacks and sports equipment to the very last row in the back of the bus. She sat down next to a very loud boy who yelled her name as she reached him. I sighed and plopped myself down in the first seat. So much for making friends being easier this time around.

I took the medical mystery I always kept in my bag and started reading. The talking and yelling going on around me kept interrupting my concentration. Soon after I opened it and after reading the same paragraph twelve times, I shut the book and put it away, deciding to instead look out the window.

As the bus slammed its breaks for a red light, I wondered why no one had put seatbelts in the seats. The government makes such a big deal about "Click It Or Ticket" and trying (Note: _trying_) to enforce the seatbelt law. Why aren't they included in buses, especially school buses?

My bag pitched forward with the momentum. I grabbed for it and snatched up the strap before it went sliding into the aisle and into the hands' of one of my new schoolmates. Just as I was collecting myself and getting settled again, we started forward and a unique shop caught my eye.

A pale green sign was posted above a glass window display. It read, "Mint Julep". Paper leaves of all colors decorated the window and made the clothing behind it stick out. Three outfits were being shown. The first on the left had brown corduroy pants with a brown and pink floral top. In the middle, a knee-length navy skirt over black tights paired with a jacket of the same color. A delicate yellow scarf provided the perfect amount of color. On the right was a strapless dress. It was casual, but on the dressy side as well. It was designed with leaves embroidered in fine patterns. The mannequin even had a necklace to completely the outfit. Through the glass paneling, I could see racks and racks of clothes taking up every possible square foot of the tiny shop. It was small, but tasteful. I committed the name to memory for a possible future shopping trip. Maybe I could take Jane as a peace offering.

The rest of the bus ride past in a daze with my thoughts lost in what the boutique may hold. When we pulled up in front of the school, everyone groaned and gathered their bags. I let everyone pile on top of each other as they tried to get off before I even stood.

The school was ordinary, nothing special. It looked like exactly what it was used for, a learning institution that teenagers dubbed a prison. The exterior was made of red brick and had three sets of double doors at the main entrance. The office was right next to the doors, the place I was told to go for my schedule. I weaved through the throngs of students eager to see their friends and pushed into the office. Three secretaries were bustling around, looking at papers and opening files.

"Excuse me," I said quietly. The secretary with long curly hair looked up at me. She was on the phone and gave me a hard look. My mouth snapped shut and I sat down to wait for her to finish. The others were apparently too busy for me. I hoped they were in better spirits than she.

"What do you need?" she asked after hanging up the phone.

"I'm a new student. I transferred from Greenwich Academy," I said, stepping up to the counter.

"I can print the schedule that's been made for you. Everything else, you need to go to guidance for. It's just past the library," she looked to the computer, clicked a few times, and printed out one sheet of paper. She handed it to me and walked away.

"Thanks," I muttered as I looked at the paper. The schedule made no sense to me. It was set up nothing like the documents at my previous school. I only understood the class names. _A.P. Calculus, French History, A.P. English, A.P. Forensic Sciences, Human Anatomy, Anatomy & Physiology, Study Hall, Study Hall._ My brow furrowed. The classes listed looked adequate, but I wondered why I had two study halls.

I made my way out of the office and towards the glass room filled with books, which was obviously the library. I walked past that room and saw a sign next to a door. _Guidance_. I moved inside and into one of the guidance counselor's offices.

"Hi, I have a question about my schedule," I said to a man who was facing his computer. He turned around and smiled. It was the first smile I'd seen since leaving the house.

"What's your name and grade?"

"Maura Isles, grade eleven."

He typed it into the computer and studied the results. "Ah, new student?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Okay, let me get you some forms to have your parents fill out first. Then we'll talk about your schedule," he wheeled his chair from his desk and opened a filing cabinet. "I'm Mr. Charles, by the way. And you just need to leave these with the ladies at the front office when you get them filled out."

I nod and tuck the papers into my bag.

"What's wrong with your schedule?" he asked, looking up at me.

"Well, I don't understand when the classes are for one thing," I handed him the paper.

He smiled. "We have a block schedule. Each day there are four classes, eighty minutes long each. Therefore, the classes alternate every other day, A Day and B Day. If you go down the list and alternate each one, you have the schedule."

I looked at the list and nodded. "Makes sense. Thank you."

"You said there was something else?"

"Why do I have two study halls?"

"Your schedule is very full. It's a tough course load. We rarely have students taking this many high level classes, especially as a junior. So, we wanted to give you a time that could help you get help done. In case, you have a job or other obligations outside of school. We want to challenge you, not make you fail," he smiled warmly.

"I don't want study halls," I shook my head. "I took a tough course load at GA. I can handle it."

"I'm sorry, the school won't allow me to give you anymore classes. You can drop an AP and get two lower level classes, but I doubt you want to do that…"

I shook my head again.

"I'm sorry, see how it goes. If there's anything else I can help with, don't hesitate to stop by."

"Thanks," I sighed and left the room. The classes were hard for other students. Students with friends and families. And who played sports. I didn't have any of that. I spent my life studying. I couldn't afford free time.


End file.
